Maximum Fury

@desertqueenfuriosa / desertqueenfuriosa.tumblr.com

I love Imperator Furiosa, I love that her face is dirty and has no makeup and no hair and one arm and blood in her teeth and sand in her eyes. I love that she comes from a world of women and doesn’t understand the greed of men. I love that she risks everything to save herself but mostly to save 5 other women that are being held that she has no duty to other than the fact that they’re women too. I love that she’s reunited with her people and it’s just half a dozen old weathered grizzled women on motorcycles with seeds in their pockets and missing teeth. I love that to succeed she has to learn to trust Max when men have done nothing for her before but ruin her life. I love that she fights with her whole body and isn’t afraid to be ugly and shoots guns and cries when she’s sad and screams when she’s angry and doesn’t take shit from other people and I love Imperator Furiosa

I’ve never been much into post-apocalyptic stories before, often because they tend to focus on the mechanism of the apocalypse–the zombie plague, the sentient robots, the One Big Earth-Killing Baddie.

What’s so interesting about Mad Max is that the mechanism (a succession of resource & nuclear wars) has come and gone, and not in a fell swoop, but in increments. We’re given a world that has had its peak crisis, and now it is dealing with the aftermath. It’s a world that could equally begin anew or crumble into oblivion.

We have Angharad asking, “Who killed the world?” And no one can really answer, because there was no one big baddie, it was everyone. And it will take everyone to heal.

As bleak as the wasteland is, something about that feels like hope.